Deliverer
by PRlNCE
Summary: Soren was at fault. He hadn't been good enough to prevent it. He should have been of more use, and now he had to pay the price for not doing well enough. Now Ike had to pay the price for his companion's negligence, incompetence and insufficiency. Forever.


Parted lips received the blessings of rain. Short, fragmented breaths escaped them through the strained motions of a chest soiled with a dark substance. The skies filled the air with arrows of water descending upon the two young men below, drenching them in a liquid embrace.

This scene of muted silver and nature's cry accompanied by a tragic contingency seemed unlikely, overtaxed and cliché. But it didn't feel so cliché, once it unfolded before one's very eyes. Once the scent of blood and moisture intertwined to the point where one could sense it no more, desperation clouding one's judgment at the sight of a man nearing his end, it was difficult to separate fiction from reality, and opinion from verity. All the more difficult was it to approach the fact that this was a man one would gladly trade places with. At the very least, this particular one would.

Soren blinked a drop out of his crimson eyes. Whether it had originated from the clouds above, or within his system, he couldn't ascertain, nor was it of any interest. There was a voracity to his mind as it raced through the calculated masses of his inner self, eating away at any solution, any manner of stalling and assistance, whatever possibility in the world's very existence that could bring a steadiness to his commander's breathing again. But the flow of blood spread rapidly, too much for Soren to keep his composure, sending him into an uncharacteristic despondency as he urged himself to place bandages on a situation the seasoned tactician in him knew could not be mended by any means of his.

It shouldn't have been this way. This should not have happened.

Like any man, Ike was susceptible to any form of wound the human body could receive. He could bleed. He could burn. He could very well trip and fall, hitting his head in the process and as such sending him off to a premature end. This was also a matter sorted into the deck of what was self-explanatory, and the sensible mage in Soren knew this as well as he knew how to walk. But the Soren who had been saved by this man, who held onto him with every fiber of his being so long as he drew breath, the mind of one who would sooner accept a bludgeoning to death than never again lay his eyes upon the person whom had become a sanctuary to his very soul... this mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. It couldn't understand that the presumed invincibility of the man responsible for gently tearing down those barriers had been shattered in mere moments.

Soren was at fault. He hadn't been good enough to prevent it. He should have been of more use, and now he had to pay the price for not doing well enough. Now Ike had to pay the price for his companion's negligence, incompetence and insufficiency.

It was as if everything broke, at that point. Rain and tears dripped down Soren's face in equal measure as he bit down hard, a choked breath coupled with a whimper escaping through his teeth. Water had penetrated his robes entirely as he leaned over the struggling blue-haired man lying in the dirt, attempting to reach him but receiving no clue from his supposed genius mind as to what he should do.

There was no way Soren could leave him alone. And yet, there was no help to be found unless he left to fetch it from someplace else. Only, where? The two of them had separated themselves from much other contact, traveling near the borders of Gallia but not close enough to be certain of anyone's presence. This, too, Soren managed to blame himself for. Not only should he have seen this coming, considering his life's accomplishments so far, but as Ike's one and only companion at the time, he had been responsible for keeping the man safe when he couldn't do the job himself.

And now Ike was slipping through his fingers, slowly but surely, and Soren was forced to watch, unable to take his agonized eyes off of him, in case it would cause him to disappear. But either way, he was. And as blue orbs locked with his, Soren could tell by Ike's expression that acceptance was upon him. The young mage leaned further, drenched hair draping over his shoulder and his fingernails digging into the dirt at the motion. Before Ike had been given any chance to speak his final words, Soren stole the opportunity from him in the desperation brought upon by the incessant and painful drumming of a frightened heart.

"Please do not look at me like that, Commander", he squeezed out, sounding surprisingly collected. "It's affecting morale."

Ike let out a slight, not very amused chuckle followed by a groan before taking to words himself.

"You're going to call me 'Commander' at a time like this?"

"You are my Commander. Are you denying that, Ike?"

The latter was added with emphasized purpose, enough to bring what some would call a smile on Ike's paling face.

"No, of course not. I guess. But I'm not planning on calling you 'tactician' or 'strategist' on your death bed."

"You're mincing words."

Silence ensued. Ike made to speak, but reigned himself in for whatever reason. Soren frowned, tilting his head as if to inquire, but Ike remained silent. The branded youth realized the reason too late, watching as Ike's left hand moved in his direction, perhaps to touch Soren's shoulder, his face, or his own hand.

"Ike."

But it fell beneath its own weight. And never before had Soren witnessed something fall quite so heavily, with this much impact, and never before had it indirectly wounded him in the process. Throwing himself over the body, now still and absorbing the cold fast, Soren let out a shrill breath, as if preventing a discordant scream of anguish. The rain seemed to mute everything out, leaving naught but a slight echo to wander the air as Soren wept for his deliverer.


End file.
